


easy listening

by pragmatic



Category: The 100
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pragmatic/pseuds/pragmatic
Summary: Bellamy knows it’s become a common thing to find a significant other through a social media platform—Octavia met her boyfriend through twitter, and he hasn’t turned out to be a serial killer yet.And maybe spotify isn’t exactly a common platform to do that with but—whatever. It’s not like he can get anymore pathetic, right?





	easy listening

**Author's Note:**

> me? uploading a fic? never heard of it.

Everyone is always quick to peg him as the one who hates parties, but that’s only partially true. He supports the concept of parties—friends getting together to have a good time, forgetting about your problems, hooking up just because—it’s all the other bullshit that he would rather not have to deal with. Such as hangovers, throwing up in his car, _other_ people throwing up in his car, the headache inducing music—he doesn’t think anyone enjoys that, he can’t be the only one.

Unfortunately, despite his definite dislike of rowdy social gatherings, his friends always manage to drag him out to them, and then force him to be designated driver. Yes, his friends _are_ dicks—thank you for noticing.

He’s supposed to be taking care of the music at one of these gatherings, when he meets Clarke. Well, he won’t actually know her name for another few months, but this is where it starts.

“Dude! Just play some Drake shit! No one cares!” Jasper slurs, leaning heavily on Monty.

“Dude!” Bellamy replies. “Everyone knows I don’t pay for Spotify Premium. You’ll just have to be patient, and wait for Crake to come on shuffle.”

Jasper is in the middle of formulating his reply, when a short, clearly drunk, blonde with pink streaks marches up to them. “Listen, my phone’s dead, give me yours.”

At first he thinks she’s asking so she can make a call, and he hands it over willingly. She types something in, and then hands it back to him—did she give him her number? He was too drunk to properly deal with this exchange.

“I have premium.” Is all the explanation she gives them, and then walks/stumbles away.

Jasper grins. “Sweet.”

Bellamy looks down at his screen, and sure enough, he’s logged onto _cglistening_ ’s spotify. He considers logging back out again, just because he doesn’t want handouts—if someone does anything nice without expecting anything in return, it’s charity, obviously—but he figures it’s fine for one night. She won’t even remember this tomorrow.

***

Quite a few tomorrows have gone by, and he still hasn’t logged out of her account. Does he feel guilty about it? Of course. Is that going to stop him from enjoying his music uninterrupted by ads or shitty connection? Absolutely not. It’s been two months since that party, and she still hasn’t kicked him off. Which means she doesn’t care—or hasn’t noticed.

Personally, he’s betting the former, considering it’s hard not to notice what she’s listening to. She has a classical playlist, and the description is something along the lines of pretentious shit for when im doing my shit, which she plays fairly regularly. There’s a _Sad Bops_ playlist, and a _BANGERS!1!1!1!_ one as well. He’s felt like he’s gotten to know her, in a strange kind of way. She’s usually listening to her depressing stuff late at night, and her upbeat ones on the weekends. Anything else though, she doesn’t seem to have set times for. She listens to everything and anything, and doesn’t appear to have a favourite genre or artist. He never knew someone could learn so much just by paying attention to the kind of music they listen to; and he can’t help but wonder if she’s doing the same.

***

(Miller thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous, and anytime Bellamy brings it up, he immediately rolls his eyes. “Dude, we _really_ need to get you laid. Like, your pathetic-ness is literally contaminating me through proximity. I’m not down with it.”

”I’m glad you said that, actually, I hadn’t understood you the last _fifty times_ you brought it up.”)

***

Another couple months pass, and _cglistening_ makes a new playlist. He’s embarrassed to say he blushes when he sees the title; _hot party dude tunes_.

He scrolls through, and is pleasantly surprised to see a multitude of the songs that he listens to all compiled into one ultra-track. Of course, he appreciates being called hot, and he appreciates her not kicking him off her account, and mostly he appreciates her taking the time to listening to his music—but put them all together? It’s more than enough to spiral his kindling fondness of her into a full blown crush. And he’s really not up for that—especially when he doesn’t even know her name.

_Pathetic_ , the Miller voice in his head sing-songs, and Bellamy somehow manages to deepen his already heavy set frown.

***

“What about her?” Octavia asks, subtly pointing to a red-head with a tiny waist and green eyes.

Bellamy shakes his head. “Red-heads always have shitty tempers, and as do I. Not a good match.”

She narrows her eyes. “Stereotypical, but true.” She scouts the bar again. “Oh, okay. Her.”

This time, he sees a brunette with high cheekbones and intimidating eyes. Even when she’s seated, he can tell she’s well over six feet tall. “Octavia, if I’m supposed to keep up this facade about my height, I can’t be dating someone who has to duck to get through doorways.”

Octavia groans, spinning her stool to dramatically clunk her head onto the bar. “This is impossible! Why are you so picky?”

“I prefer the term _particular_.”

She glares up at him from her spot on the grimy surface. “Is this about that Spotify girl?”

He does _not_ choke on his drink. It’s predictable and cliche and refuses to play into that kind of thing. He does almost drop his glass, however, and half of it sloshes messily onto his shoes. He glares at his sister, clearly conveying the words _this is because of you_. “You know how shy I am about this kind of thing, Octavia, and now you’ve gotten me all flustered.”

She rolls her eyes, knowing that’s complete bullshit. “Way to dodge a direct question, Bell.”

He mops at his shoes with a couple napkins. “It’s filed under Special Strengths on my resume for a reason, you know.”

“There are ways to find her, you realize, you’re just too chicken.”

He looks up, thoughtful. “You know, I’ve never understood that expression. Have you ever met a chicken? I can tell you first hand that they are not scared of anything—they’ll peck your fucking eyes out.”

Octavia sighs, and orders more alcohol. “Like I said, impossible.”

***

Apparently, fate agreed, and decided to take matters into its own hands—because at the next party, he sees her again.

He stands next to Miller while he ogles at some asian kid, Bellamy nodding along when it’s appropriate. He glances around the room, making silent but judge-y comments as he people watches. There’s a girl with curly brown hair, laughing at another with olive skin. And beside them, a blonde with pink streaks in her hair is playing with her phone. He gasps, and the realization hits him so hard he nearly drops his drink.

“Hello? I said what’s your bi-fi signal saying?” Miller pokes him in the ribs, clearly agitated that Bellamy hasn’t been listening.

The blonde looks up then, and Bellamy pins Miller under his arm and spins them in the opposite direction. “What are you—?”

“That’s her. The blonde with the pink streaks—that’s the spotify girl.” He explains quickly, somehow talking around his heart, which was helpfully lodged in his throat.

Miller ducks his head, and looks under Bellamy’s arm. It takes him a minute to locate her, but when he does—“Her? _Really_? Dude, it’s easy to see why you couldn’t forget about her for four months... Objectively, of course.”

“Of course,” He worries his lip. “What’s she doing? Did she see me?”

“Well, she’s whispering to her friend and pointing at you, so—I’m gonna say probably.”

A surge of excitement goes through his entire body, leaving him giddy and tipsy. She probably doesn’t remember him from the party—she’s probably just pointing out that he’s hot—but he’ll take it, either way.

“Shit,” Miller says, straightening quickly.

“What?”

“She’s coming. She’s coming, she’s—“

There’s a tap on Bellamy’s shoulder, and he slowly turns them both around.

Miller whispers out of the corner of his mouth. “ _She’s here_.”

The blonde blushes, not having heard Miller’s comment, and tucks a piece of shoulder length hair behind her ear. “Hi, um, you probably don’t recognize me—“

“ _CGlistening_.” Bellamy says automatically, and then internally smacks himself.

She laughs. “Most people just call me Clarke.”

Bellamy lets his arm slip from around Miller’s shoulders. “I find calling someone by their username asserts dominance.”

“O-kay,” Miller says. “That’s my cue to leave.”

They watch him go, then turn back to each other. “So, are you just an incredibly kind and selfless person? Or did you just forget you logged some random stranger at a party onto your account?”

Clarke shrugs, fighting back a smile. “I’d like to say the former, but honestly? I was just too lazy to find a way to kick you off.”

Bellamy laughs, pleased with her directness. “Well, I appreciate it—however it happened.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and he could take it one of two ways; he could bring up the flattering playlist she made—inspired by his truly—or he could thank her again and leave.

He goes with the former. “I _also_ appreciate having playlists named in my honour.”

Her eyes widen, and a lovely blush spreads from her chest to her neck. “Well, I didn’t know your name. I still don’t, in fact.”

He smiles, suddenly fond. “Bellamy.”

She narrows her eyes. “If you get to call me by username—it’s only fair that I know yours, too.”

There’s an underlying intention that this won’t be the last time they see each other, and it causes the butterflies in his stomach to go into overdrive. “It’s, uh—“ He ducks his head, embarrassed, mumbling his next words. “ _BellamyBops_.”

She steps a little closer, feigning like she couldn’t hear him. “Sorry, what was that?”

He sighs, lolling his head back in exasperation. He levels her with a glare, crossing his arms dramatically. “Bellamy. Bops.”

She bites her lip, holding back a smile and failing miserably. “That’s—that’s—adorable, actually.”

He sniffs, obnoxious. “Obviously. _I_ came up with it, after all.”

She laughs, then chews on her thumbnail for a moment, debating something. “Are you hungry?” She asks, finally.

He shrugs. “Eating wouldn’t be the worse thing in the world.”

“And what would that be?”

“You kicking me off your spotify.” He says immediately, making her laugh.

“I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon.” She says, and it sounds like a promise.

***

It’s the strangest meet-cute he’s ever heard of, and it has their friends teasing them for months. But it’s theirs—and he wouldn’t do anything different if he had a chance to start over.

(She changes their shared spotify account name to _cbbops_ , and he stays mad for a record of seven minutes before kissing her senseless for being so damn cute. Yet, another thing they’re teased relentlessly for.)

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to mali cuz it’s our two year anniversary. thanks for putting up with me for so long, babe <3


End file.
